Sweet Revenge

by Rebecca Zanetti

  He could relate. Time to get back on even topics here. “So, no sports, huh?”

  Her shoulders visibly relaxed. “Well, except for track. I liked running.”

  He loved to run. “Do you still jog?”

  “Sometimes. Lately I’ve been so busy, so no.”

  To jog, she must be fairly healthy. His curiosity reared up again. “How about tomorrow morning you take me jogging? Show me a good trail here?”

  She frowned. “Well, I guess we could try. I’m not in training or anything.”

  “Neither am I.” He’d slow down as much as necessary to spend time with her… and watch her move. If there was something going on physically with her, he’d figure it out. He wanted to convince himself that he just would like to see her hot and sweaty in tiny shorts, but it was more than that. He wanted her healthy and happy… and safe once he moved on. She mattered to him even if he never saw her again. “Tomorrow it is.”

  “I guess.” Doubt filled her voice. “We could start out together, and if I’m too fast, I could meet up with you later.”

  Smart-ass. He grinned. “I’ll try and keep up.”

  “If you say so.” She crouched down to look under a bottom shelf. “There’s the extra grenadine. I told Smitty that’s where it was.”

  Matt maneuvered the small distance to the other shelves, easily keeping her from lifting anything heavy by predicting where she’d move before she did so. “How did you end up with Smitty?”

  “He’s lived in town forever and was retired. When his wife died, he was just lost.” Laney grabbed the grenadine and plunked it on a higher shelf. “He has been invaluable, to be honest.”

  Sounded like she’d saved a lost soul. Just like the way she fed Rufus and Aaron… and half the town apparently. Matt stilled. Shit. Did she see him as another wounded orphan to be rescued? He frowned.

  She chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked. The idea of her feeling sorry for him didn’t set well at all.

  “The look on your face.” She dropped to her knees and reached both hands under the shelf. The little wiggle of her butt made him groan. “Like I see you the same as Smitty.”

  “Do you?”

  She glanced over her shoulder, her pretty eyes darkening. “No. Not even a little bit.”

  Well, that was something.

  What in the hell had Laney been thinking to agree to go jogging at freakin’ dawn? The truth was that she’d been hiding inside her bar for so long that she’d forgotten how great it felt to enjoy a little bit of freedom. She stretched her calves and fought the urge to growl at the fit specimen currently stretching his arms.

  Instead, she smiled sweetly. “When was the last time you jogged?”

  He shrugged. “Last week.”

  Wonderful. “How far?”

  “Dunno. Maybe ten miles?” He eyed the quiet main street of town. “Where is everybody?”

  “Small town at dawn? Everyone is in bed.” Laney shook out her neck.

  “It’s six in the morning—nowhere near dawn.” Matt rolled his eyes.

  It felt like dawn. “Well, try to keep up.” She shot into an instant jog, wanting to be grouchy but enjoying the early sun, which was rare during storm season. The warmth caressed her face even as her muscles relaxed into the run. She hadn’t done this in much too long.

  Matt loped to her side, easily matching her strides. Fit muscles filled out his tank top and basketball shorts in a way that made her salivate.

  They ran by tidy stores that sold everything from cupcakes to garden supplies, and block after block remained quiet. The small town was a haven to a lost woman like Laney, and she’d dug right in by joining the business group and feeding the needy—from the safety of her bar. Sorrow panged her at the thought that she’d have to leave soon. Finally, at the end of the street, they reached the local bank. The sheriff’s station sat across the street, and squad cars were being exchanged at the change of shift.

  Laney huffed out air and nodded toward the mountain. “Up for some trail climbing?”

  “Absolutely.” Matt’s breathing remained even. The guy wasn’t even sweating.

  “Good.” Laney increased her pace and veered down another street, this one lined with small homes and ruthlessly tended gardens. The movement felt good, and having Matt at her side felt even better. Safe and right somehow.

  They moved in unison, as if a comfortable pair. She’d never been completely comfortable with a man, and she’d certainly never felt like a couple with anybody. As if she belonged and was special. If life were different, she could feel that with Matt.

  She glanced his way, and her face heated. “Stop watching my ass.”

  He grinned. “You have a great ass.”

  That should not please her. Even so, she bit back a smile. “Take a right at the big rock.”

  Matt turned first, leading the way. The closest trail led up to a magnificent view of the small town, even as clouds began to roll in. They kept to the ridges, and one hour turned into two. Finally, Laney led the way down the mountain.

  When they reached the residential street, Matt grabbed her hand and lulled her into a walk. “We ran enough. Time for a slowdown.”

  Sweat dripped down her back. “I could keep going.”

  “I know.” He still wasn’t sweaty.

  “Whatever,” she mumbled, shoving wet hair off her face. Movement behind a white picket fence caught her eye as she saw her friend gardening. “June? What in the world are you doing with a storm coming?”

  June sat up, her bright pink hat hanging lopsidedly on her head. “Well, good morning.” Dirt caked her hands as she patted soil around purple pansies. “It’s nice to see you and your fella outside.”

  Her fella? Laney cleared her throat and kept her gaze away from Matt. “Um, it’s storm season.” While she didn’t know much about gardening, she did know that storms destroyed flowers.

  June clucked her tongue. “Silly girl. Pansies are tough, and the way I have them against the fence will protect them.” She patted the ground around several batches of flowers, delight filling her papery skin.

  Well, maybe. A large bag of mulch near the porch of the modest home caught Laney’s eye. “Do you want me to grab that for you?”

  “I’ve got it.” Matt stepped over the fence and onto the grass, returning with the bag to place by June.

  Yeah, Laney enjoyed watching him move. His sweetness in helping June warmed her way too much. How could such a sexy man be so kind and caring? He’d make a wonderful husband and father. At the thought, her stomach dropped. There would be no kids for her. She forced her attention to her friend. “Where’s Phillip?”

  “Sleeping.” June wiped her forehead with the back of a smudged hand. “You’re so good with him, Laney. You’ll make such a good mother someday.”

  Hurt slammed into Laney’s chest so quickly she winced. “Thanks, June. Well, we have to run.” Turning, she headed toward the sheriff’s station.

  Matt quickly caught up. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” She kept her head up.

  “No kids, huh?” he asked softly.

  Her stride hitched, and she quickly regained her footing. There was no way she’d have kids. “No.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Me, too.”

  They walked the rest of the way back in silence.

  Chapter 6

  Matt finished sliding empty glasses toward Smitty as the night droned on. He’d been wondering all day about Laney’s statement that she couldn’t have kids. Was it a medical condition?

  Why did he care? He probably couldn’t have kids, either.

  And if he could, it wasn’t like he’d have them with her.

  What the hell was wrong with his brain this night? The longer he remained in Laney’s world, the harder it would be to leave. He had to get a move on his mission and find the doctor before forcing her to deactivate the deadly chips.

  Across the bar, the group of businesswomen tipped back cos
mos in a wide booth, several of them checking out his ass at regular intervals once the night had worn on. They all wore bar-worthy tight jeans and low-cut tops. He kept his peripheral gaze on the veterinarian’s assistant, who was weaving back and forth. She’d arrived with a female accountant driving a pristine SUV.

  Next to her sat the coroner, a blonde with sharp eyes. She’d been sipping a glass of wine all night. The same glass.

  Unfortunately, the family practitioner was a no-show. He’d have to seek her out.

  For now, he captured a bottle of silver tequila and shot glasses, approaching the table. He could’ve sworn the vet’s assistant purred as he neared. So he flashed his most charming smile. “How about a shot? On me?”

  “Awesome.” The vet’s assistant snorted. “I’m Claire.” She pointed to the accountant. “She’s um, Betty, and this is Tasha.”

  Tasha held out a hand. “Dr. Friedan.” Culture sounded in her low voice.

  “Doc.” Matt enveloped her hand. Yeah. Snotty tone, smart eyes… definitely a doctor. Was she the one he needed to find? “Shot?” He quickly poured four glasses. “What should we toast?”

  Betty weaved back and forth. “Sexy men.” Grasping her drink, she threw the booze back, her eyes watering. “Yum.”

  Claire followed suit and immediately launched into a coughing attack. Betty smacked her on the back. Kind of.

  Matt nudged a glass toward Tasha and took his own. “What kind of doctor?” he asked.

  “Coroner.” She eyed the liquor. “I don’t drink hard alcohol.” Her brown eyes lifted to rake him. “Although I do like it hard.”

  He leaned in and forced interest into his eyes. “I like the way you talk.” His gaze dropped to the glass and traveled back up to her smooth face. “How about one tiny drink? It’d make my night.”

  She blinked. “Cheers.” Taking the drink, she swallowed, her gaze remaining clear and on his.

  “A coroner, huh?” he fetched the empty shot glasses. “That’s interesting.”

  “It pays the bills.” Gathering her purse, she scooted from the booth. “Thank you for the drink, but I need to go home. Night, everyone.” Without a backward glance, she headed for the door.

  Claire chortled. “She’s funny, right?”

  Matt nodded. “Thanks for the drink, ladies.”

  They probably would only stay for another round, so he needed to get a move on. He had a plan, and it’d be nice to rule out at least one of the women. Crossing behind the bar, he dumped ice from the glasses and inserted them into the dishwasher. “I owe you four shots, and am now heading to the can,” he murmured to Smitty, who was pouring another round of cosmos.

  “Sure thing,” the bartender said absently.

  Matt sauntered past the restrooms and out the back door. The accountant’s SUV was parked down the alley, and within seconds, he had the hood popped and the carburetor cap off. The government had taught him more than guns and charm. He opened his senses to make sure nobody lurked near, shut the hood, and sprinted back to the door.

  Laney stepped outside and stopped short. The scent of vanilla came with her. “Why are you outside?”

  “Garbage.” He eyed her carefully, his fingers itching to touch her again. “You okay?”

  “Stop asking me that.” She took a deep breath, outlining her breasts against the worn cotton. “I’m fine.”

  The woman was more than fine, yet she was pale. “If something’s going on, I can help.” It surprised him how much he wanted to help her.

  She rolled her eyes. “Listen, I appreciate the concern, but we just met. That does bring up the topic of our earlier kiss: I think we should just forget our bonding moments earlier.”

  He studied her body language instead of her words. He sensed before she moved that her head would snap up. The pulse fluttered in her neck, and he could hear the quickening of her heart.

  Not exactly a fair advantage, but one he’d take anyway. “Is that what you want?” he murmured, wondering if she’d deny the attraction between them.

  She met his gaze, hers seeking. “It’s the right move.”

  Interesting that she’d said move, like they were pieces on a chessboard. “Is this a game to you?” Irritation filled him that she saw him so narrowly.

  “No game.” She swallowed, her fragile throat moving.

  Right. Just a huge risk, and one he couldn’t take. Even so, he ran a knuckle down the side of her face, the caress having become one of his favorites. For the first time in his life, he wished he didn’t have a mission about to take him somewhere else.

  She closed her eyes, leaning into the touch.

  Tension centered low in his belly, and he stepped into her space. Grasping her chin, he leaned in and brushed her lips with his, keeping the moment light when all he wanted to do was strip her bare and feast for hours. “You’re a sweetheart, Laney Jacobs.”

  “No, I’m not.” She leaned back and smiled, the sparkle back in her eyes.

  He’d done that. One kiss, and he’d made her sparkle. He could get used to this.

  Laney made herself lean away from sure comfort. Yeah, she wanted to get lost in the ex-marine. But right now, she had a bar to run. “We need to get back inside and close down.”

  “Good point. Then maybe we should talk.” Matt released her chin.

  “About what?”

  “Us. This. Tonight.” His inscrutable gaze failed to give her an inkling of what he was thinking.

  “Okay.” She really wanted to get inside his head.

  He turned toward the door and immediately stepped to the side as two women stumbled out.

  Laney frowned at women who usually held their liquor better. Well, when Matt wasn’t drinking with them. “How much did you two drink?”

  Claire hiccupped. “Not much. Plus, tomorrow is a light day. I only need to monitor a German shepherd that might go into labor.” She squinted up at Matt. “You like dogs?”

  “Love ’em.” Matt scratched his head. “I’m not sure you two should be driving.”

  “We’re fine,” Betty said, marching down the steps toward her SUV. “I only had a couple.”

  “As an accountant, you should probably count better,” Claire snorted, wobbling across the alley to fall into the backseat and lie down.

  Betty hopped into her car, slammed the door, and rolled down the window. “Claire, get your butt up front.” She twisted the ignition.

  Nothing happened.

  She hit the steering wheel, focusing out the window. “My car is broken.”

  Matt glanced down at Laney. “We can’t let them drive.”

  “No kidding.” Laney rubbed her nose. “Betty? Why don’t you come back in, and I’ll take you home?”

  “But my car is broken,” the accountant wailed.

  Matt strode toward the car. “Pop the hood.”

  Laney followed in his wake. Not only did he have the body of a god, the fighting skills of an ancient warrior, and the face of an angel, but the guy could fix cars? “Who the hell are you?” she muttered.

  He either didn’t hear her, or he chose to ignore her comment. Regardless, after two seconds of peering under the hood, he twisted some knob to the left. “Try again.”

  The engine roared to life, and he gently shut the hood. “You had a loose cap. No big deal. But you’re not driving home.” Long strides had him opening the driver’s door.

  Oh, he was not taking two intoxicated women home. Laney rushed over and clutched his arm. “I’m taking them. Please go finish busing tables. We close in a few minutes.”

  Betty scooted over to the passenger seat, a goofy smile on her patrician face. “We want him to drive us.”

  “Yeah,” Claire chirped from the backseat. “We want the handsome bartender taking us home. He makes us feel safe.”

  Frustration roared through Laney at Matt’s amused grin. “Fine.” She leaned up and put on her most fierce expression. “You come right back. I’m liable for anything you do, Prince Charming.”

  H
e stretched into the seat and shut the door before leaning out the window. “You’re cute when you’re territorial, boss. Very cute.” A quick glance around the quiet alley had him focusing back on her. “Go back inside before I leave.” At her raised eyebrow, he smoothly added, “Please.”

  “That was still an order,” she muttered, pivoting on her heel and stomping up the stairs and inside where she took a deep breath and leaned against the door. Worse yet, he’d been correct. She had been feeling territorial.

  Irritation flicked like ashes beneath her skin at her own weakness. She had no claim to Matt, no matter how much she liked him. How much she wanted him. Years ago she’d learned that fantasies were just that, and reality was much darker. She lived in the real world.

  Sexy, dangerous soldiers didn’t settle down and fix everything for somebody like her. Period.

  As a cautious woman, she rarely made mistakes. But when she made them, they were monumental… and instinct whispered giving Matt Dean a second chance and allowing him to stay was going to be a whopper. Not only to her life, but to her heart.

  The man called to her on a primal, feminine level. His strength, his loneliness, his over-the-top commanding attitude. She had to figure out a way to maintain space between them.

  She’d been hiding from her last mistake for years. Something told her she’d never be able to hide from Matt, and she thanked whatever gods existed he wasn’t after her. The man was a hunter, one who had shown no mercy when taking down the two drunk men in the bar the other night—and if he ever had cause to hunt her… he’d find her.

  Betty eyed Matt from the passenger seat, her lips pursed, her eyes bright, and her curly hair a tangled mess. Claire sang an old Bon Jovi song from the backseat, her heels pressed against the roof of the SUV. All of a sudden, Betty gasped and sucked in air.

  “I’m going to be sick,” she said.

  Matt pressed harder on the gas pedal. “Let’s get you home first.” Excellent. He needed to get the singing woman alone, anyway.

  “Good idea.” Betty plastered a hand against her stomach and pointed down the road. “Go into the River Creek subdivision, and I’m the fifth house on the right.”